Lost
by Fwirl
Summary: Maybe it was easy enough for Katniss to forget him, but what would things look like from Gale's point of view? Spoilers if you haven't read Mockingjay yet.
1. Chapter 1

**Heeey, guys~! Sorry I haven't exactly updated anything in…half a year. I've kind of left the world of fanfiction behind for original work, as I've discovered it's much more satisfying, and in many regards. The only depressing part is that I can't get reviews and critiques anymore. T~T**

**Aaanyways, I just finished reading Mockingjay last night, and the ending **_**was horrible. **_**I was so into it up until Gale was completely written off for pretty much no reason at all. I can understand all the deaths—it's war, and I admire that Collins would actually kill off so many people, because that's how a war really is, and not everyone makes it out. But when Katniss can't forgive Gale because, at that time, she thought he **_**might've, unintentionally **_**created the plan that killed Prim, and then again when she's thinking, AND I QUOTE, "Sorry excuses for hunters and friends. Both of us." I just can't get over that. I mean, up through the entire book she was thinking Gale was the only person left she could trust, he was the only person who could understand the way she thought, and he was the only person she'd trust to have her back in battle. It wasn't even a gradual change—all of a sudden, she just considers him an outsider. Through the entire series, I would've been happy with whoever Katniss ended up with—Gale **_**or**_** Peeta—but not this way. Not just forgetting someone who you spent an entire four years with, sharing all your secrets and everything you thought and, and…ugh. Just ugh.**

**-sighs- Okay. Enough with the rant and onto the oneshot (finally, right? XD). **

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She walks through the rubble that was her old house, far down below me, close enough for me to see her blank pain, but too far away for me to hold her. For a long moment, she just stares at her feet, ashes swirling past her. Ashes of memories from a past life. I turn my eyes on the rest of District 12's remains with difficulty, trying to place where each store, each house, each place filled with the better part of my life had once stood before being reduced to smoky rubble.

When my gaze returns to Katniss, I'm alarmed to see her crouching down, cradling her head as if she's afraid what little is left of her mind will fall apart if she removes her hands. "Katniss," I say, silently cursing myself for looking away from her for even one second. "Should I come down?"

She stands as if she's still not really aware of what's going on, and says, "No. I'm fine," in a voice that clearly portrays that she isn't. Or maybe it only sounds that way to me. The others in the hovercraft don't comment, just _tap, tap, tap _away at their controls and pretend nothing is going on. I can tell she doesn't want me with her for this, and something tells me that I'd wish for the same if I were her. There are some things you have to face on your own, demons of the mind that can only be seen by the person who harbors them.

As she makes her way down the main road, I can tell her mind is wandering again. Regretful, self-decaying thoughts that squeeze through the cracks of the shields I've been trying so hard to build around her since her return, thoughts that I can never share or ever hope to understand. I realized that when I saw Katniss sleep without the sedatives one night, screaming and thrashing around as the nightmares stole over her once more. I think she prefers that I don't understand.

My eyes follow her path as she stops in front of where the bakery once stood. Of where Peeta's home once existed. She looks away after a few minutes of just staring at it and backs up into a melted hunk of metal that's hard to discern from this distance. She sits there for a moment, appearing to puzzle over what it is, and seems to recognize it because she stands shakily and starts running to the one place that wasn't destroyed by the fire.

I lose sight of her briefly as she enters her house in Victor's Village, then flip on the switch for the heat radar. I can see her outline blossoming with colors on a screen in front of me as she moves silently through the rooms, picking up objects that I can't make out. When she reaches the kitchen, I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as she finds her old cat, Buttercup, practically waiting for her.

"We have to go back soon," I tell her after a word with one of the others from 13. She replies distractedly, making her way to her old bedroom. I don't stop her. She goes straight to the closet once she gets there, taking out what looks like a jacket on the screen. I vaguely remember her telling me about it once, if it's the one I think it is, and it's the only one I can think she'd go back for.

Then she seems to freeze, tensing in a way that's painfully familiar to me. It's the stance of a hunter that knows something is wrong and is standing very still in order to find out what it is. Her eyes catch on something, but it's just a misshapen object that looks like it might be a vase or jar on my screen. I can't understand what's wrong, but Katniss bolts out of the room, grabbing the bag she'd put everything else in from earlier, and waves down the hovercraft frantically as soon as she's outside.

Once she's been pulled up by the ladder, I grab her hands and help her onboard. "You all right?" I wonder if she can hear the worried undertone beneath the question that holds more than concern for just this one moment.

"Yeah," she replies, wiping her forehead with the sleeve of her sweater. She looks exhausted, but more than that, scared. I'm about to ask her what's wrong when I catch that look in her eyes. It's that of an animal being chased, knowing there's nowhere left to run and just starting to succumb to the realization that there might not be a way out after all. I decide to leave whatever had frightened her behind us as we head back to District 13.

For a long time, Katniss just stares out the window as if she thinks the Capitol will suddenly appear and start shooting at us. Heck, for all I know, who's to say they won't? After a little while, she calms down and I decide it's time to take her mind off whatever it is that's nagging at her.

I nod at the writhing bag she's still hugging tightly to her chest, improvising and saying, "Now I know why you had to go back."

"If there was even a chance of his recovery," she replies, dumping the bag unceremoniously onto a seat. An obvious lie. She hates that cat, and even if she's only bringing him back for Prim, I bet she had forgotten about him until today. "Oh, shut up," she says tiredly as the bag begins to growl, only further proving my unspoken point. She sits down across from it, and I join her after a brief moment.

"Pretty bad down there?" I ask needlessly. I'd been able to see the damage well enough from my vantage point in the sky. No, it wasn't damage so much as absolute annihilation.

"Couldn't be much worse," Katniss answers. I wonder for a moment if I shouldn't have asked as we both collapse into silence, thinking over our own private losses. We don't speak again until we get to 13, me because I don't want to upset her even more and her because she's probably lost in whatever thoughts occupy her mind these days.

Once we reach the launching pad, we head over to her room. Katniss skirts the path to the elevators in preference of the stairs, another of the many effects that the Hunger Games had on her. I don't comment, but follow dutifully after her. She pauses once she reaches her door, asking, "What am I going to tell them about Twelve?"

"I doubt they'll ask for details," I assure her. "They saw it burn. They'll mostly be worried about how you're handling it." I press my hand lightly against her cheek, taking in everything about her in this instant. The tired, ever-present hunted look in her eyes, the strands of hair sticking to her forehead that I itched to push behind her ear, the way she was slumped as if she could no longer put forth the effort to stand straight. I wanted to tell her right then how un-like Katniss she was being or ask if there was anything I could do to help. Instead, all I add is, "Like I am."

She leans into my palm for a moment that's all to brief before she pulls away, saying, "I'll survive."

I don't see her again until we're both headed to the dining hall. We're stopped, though, when my communicuff goes off; I scan the message quickly before telling her we're needed in Command. I can tell by the look that instantly passes across her face that she'd rather not have another session on being the Mockingjay, but something in the back of my mind says that this isn't right. There's no way those in Command who were so fixated on clockwork timetables would call a meeting that wasn't already scheduled. Something was wrong.

When we first walk into Command, nothing seems too out of place, except for the fact that everyone's gathered around the television screen at the far end of the room. Katniss hesitates, looking like she's about to make a break for it, but Plutarch urgently waves her forward as he sees us lingering in the doorway. I follow Katniss to the screen, half-dreading what I somehow knew I was already going to see.

Peeta.

Katniss lets out a sound that seems to catch somewhere in the back of her throat, a sort of gasp somewhere between pain and relief. She pushes her way forward and rests her hand on the screen, eyes hungrily absorbing her former partner in the Hunger Games. The one I know haunts her waking nightmares. I hold back, knowing that my being with her right now was the last thing she'd want.

Watching her now, seeing how obsessed she is with the boy on the screen who isn't even standing here in person, I know I can't compare with him. The realization hits me so hard it hurts, making me back up a few steps as the program ends and Katniss's face falls. She still watches the screen as a woman comes on and announces the shortages the Capitol will be facing, trying her hardest to stay out of the argument about Peeta's betrayal that's building up behind her.

Once the woman disappears, Katniss backs out of the crowd and heads toward the door. I'm just about to follow her when Coin's voice says, "You have not been dismissed, Soldier Everdeen."

One of the 13 soldiers, I think his name is Boggs, places a hand on her arm gently, but she reacts like only someone who's survived the Hunger Games would and jerks away, taking off like a startled rabbit through the hall. Boggs makes as if to chase after her, but I quickly placed myself in the doorway to let her get away. His elbow lands squarely on my nose as he tries to come to a stop before actually running into me, but we both end up falling to the floor.

"Soldier Hawthorne," Coin snaps as we get to our feet. I can feel the blood running from my nose, but I don't make any move to stop it as the president faces me, irritation gleaming in her cold gray eyes. She holds out her hand and I know without her saying anything what she wants. I take off the communicuff and place it in her hand; we stand for a few more minutes, silently observing each other, before she nods her head in dismissal.

I instantly know where Katniss will have gone. I slip into the closet for school supplies that never seems to be in use and find her curled up against one of the crates, taking deep lungfuls of air as if she hasn't been able to breathe since she first got here. She looks up as I close the door, relief flickering across her face as she realizes it's me. I slide onto the floor beside her, close enough to be there for support but not so close that she'd feel as if I was trying to win her over from Peeta again. She doesn't need that right now.

"What happened?" she asks.

"I got in Boggs's way," I answer with a shrug. Her hand reaches forward and she starts to wipe away the blood still trickling from my nose. I want to grab her hand in both of mine and just hold it to my cheek, feeling the blood pulse through her wrist, and whisper to her that she's still alive. But I don't. "Watch it!" I flinch as the stiff fabric of her sleeve rubs too hard against my skin.

She instantly lets up a little, doing little dabbing motions instead of just smearing the blood away. "Which one is he?"

"Oh, you know. Coin's right-hand lackey," I answer, trying to go for sarcasm. At her blank look, I add, "The one who tried to stop you." I lightly push her hand away, saying, "Quit! You'll bleed me to death."

"You fought with Boggs?" she asks, not attempting to argue my statement.

"No, just blocked the doorway when he tried to follow you," I say. "His elbow caught me in the nose."

"They'll probably punish you," she says dejectedly.

"Already have." I hold up my wrist to indicate the missing communicuff, but she just stares at it, uncomprehending. "Coin took back my communicuff."

Katniss at least has the dignity to try and look serious, but fails miserably. Well, at least one of my attempts to lighten her mood has finally worked. "I'm sorry, Soldier Gale Hawthorne."

"Don't be, Soldier Katniss Everdeen," I reply, grinning. It's been so long since I've seen her smile. "I felt like a jerk walking around with it anyway." We both start laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. "I think it was quite a demotion."

We talk quietly for awhile, about District 13, the war, finally getting around to Peeta's betrayal. It kills me to say the words that will clear up Katniss's confusion, but I know I have to. "Katniss…he's still trying to keep you alive."

For a long time, she seems to fall in on herself as she relives her own private memories before she suddenly springs up, scattering pencils all across the floor. "What is it?" I ask, surprised by her sudden outburst.

"There's can't be a cease-fire," she says, bent down to pick up the pencils, but her shaking hands can't grip them steadily and she can't fit them back into their box. "We can't go back."

"I know," I tell her, gathering a handful of pencils off the floor and straightening them out.

"Whatever reason Peeta had for saying those things, he's wrong," she goes on, and I can't tell whether or not she heard my words. The pencils snap as she impatiently begins to shove them into their box.

"I know. Give it here. You're breaking them to bits." I take the box from her unsteady hands and neatly put the pencils back in, carefully stacking the broken pencils one on top of the other as I try to get my thoughts in order. But it's hard.

"He doesn't know what they did to Twelve. If he could've seen what was on the ground—"

"Katniss, I'm not arguing," I interject. "If I could hit a button and kill every living soul working for the Capitol, I would do it. Without hesitation." I slide in the last pencil, and close the lid with a certain quality of finality to it. "The question is, what are you going to do?"

I already know her answer. I knew it would come to this when she first set eyes on Peeta's face in Command. And as long as I'd been waiting to hear her say it, how much I'd desperately wanted her to finally accept it, I hated it now. Because what I'd been trying to get her to see for the past month was accomplished by Peeta in only five minutes, and not even in person at that. It wasn't me that had helped her reach her decision; it was him.

"I'm going to be the Mockingjay," she tells me.

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**Okay, so I think this is as good a place as any to stop. What started out as a oneshot has kind of become like a string of certain events told by Gale's perspective. Sorry this one was so boring; I wanted to start at the beginning, just because it's, well, the best way to start. **

**I think the next chapter thing-a-whatever-you-call-it will probably be when Gale goes to rescue Peeta, Annie, and Johanna, but not the entire operation; I suck at action scenes. Hopefully it'll be more interesting because I won't have to stick so closely to the guidelines in the book.**

**Speaking of the upcoming chapters, let me know if you've got a request for a certain scene and I'll try and fit it in, if I can. :3**

**R&R~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Back for round two! As aforementioned, this is the chapter where Gale goes to the Capitol for Peeta's rescue mission, and I fit in a scene requested by Shadow as a flashback. I don't actually have Mockingjay with me at the moment, so please excuse any errors I might have. ^.^'**

**It looks like I'll only be able to manage updates on weekends; my week is just too busy with school and homework and all around life. Sorry, guys. D:**

**Special thanks to Shadow, arrlow, Flyza, and ****Aranka Bloemberg**** for the reviews! You guys are awesome. :3**

**Hope you all enjoy!**

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I don't know what I'm doing right now. No, wait, I do know; I'm going to save my rival for the girl we both love. What I don't understand is _why _I'm doing it. After seeing Katniss break down like that after the roses, though...I knew I had to go on the rescue mission when it was suggested in Command.

I almost feel guilty for thinking that she had been pining after Finnick. Wondering why she would go to him instead of me if she wanted to talk. Was it because of what I'd said earlier back in 12? I hadn't realized it was because she knew he'd understand until I saw him fall to pieces right after Katniss. Because they both know the unbearable pain of not knowing whether someone close to them is dead or alive or being tortured right this very second.

Earlier, I'd wondered if I'd get the chance to tell her good bye before I left. For some reason, I'd instantly remembered my first time having to part with her and not knowing if I'd ever see her again. The seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The beginning of the end of everything I knew.

_I had to wait for my turn to see Katniss. Her mom and Prim were first, of course; family was always first. I let Peeta's dad go ahead of me, mostly because I was curious to know what he had to say to her. Maybe I'd ask her once I saw her. Once he had left, I was just getting ready to enter her room when Madge dashed into the waiting area._

_She looked flustered when she caught sight of me, probably thinking about that morning's conversation over the berries. She hesitated, but I waved for her to go in ahead of me, not making eye contact. What was she thinking right now? How she and Katniss had wished each other good luck only a few hours ago? How I'd said she wouldn't be going to the Capitol so coldly? _

_Madge came back out only a few minutes later, and I could tell that while she might've been able to keep her composure in front of Katniss, the tears were starting to spill out the corners of her eyes. She passed me without a word, and I went to take her vacated space in Katniss's room._

_The instant I saw her, any thoughts of asking about Peeta's dad's or Madge's visit flew out of my mind. All I could do was hug her tightly to me as she ran into my arms, feeling the fluttering, panicky beat of her heart as we pressed tightly together for what could very well be the last time. _

_I tried to tell her everything I could think of that might keep her alive. Look for a bow. Make one if you have to. It's just like hunting; you're a hunter. The best one I know. I had just finished going down my list of information I thought she needed to know when the Peacekeepers came in to tell me my time was up. I could see the panic shining in Katniss's eyes as I ask for more time and they refuse my request._

"_Don't let them starve!" she cried, clutching my hand with an iron grip. She didn't have to clarify who she meant. _

"_I won't! You know I won't!" I said. "Katniss, remember I—" _I love you._ But how could she remember? I'd never told her before. I didn't even have time to get the words out before the Peacemakers dragged me away, and now I'd never be able to tell her._

That was before Peeta Mellark even existed to me. After that, I had decided it would be best not to see her before I left. The team didn't have time to wait around for her sedatives to wear off before we went, anyways.

So now here I am, sneaking through the shadows of looming buildings that I could swear are about to topple in and suffocate us at any moment, pondering my fate and the level of wisdom in the decisions I'd made in the past twenty four hours. It isn't the most calming experience I'd ever had.

I know the layout of the area we're in, the plan, the traps likely to be set to a T. No one has to tell me once we reach the plain brown-bricked building that it's the one that will lead underground to the cells. No one has to tell me to turn down the tunnel at the first right, the next left, or to go straight past three turns before making another left.

_It's strange, _I think. _It shouldn't be this easy. _My stomach is knotted in on itself, reminiscent of Finnick's rope. Only, I wish my nerves would smooth themselves out with a single tug like his handiwork would. We're finally standing in a hall with rows of cells lining the sides, extending further back than I can even see. The lighting is dim, with only our flashlights to guide us, and the smell of decay and blood is everywhere.

Boggs takes the lead and the four of us fall in step behind him. The other two members of our team that had arrived with us had left us earlier, going to get Annie and Enobaria at a jail-like building a few blocks away. The putrid smell gets stronger the deeper we get in, but no one pays much attention to it—or they try not to, at least. Everyone is so on edge, guns drawn and fingers on their triggers, that I don't think they have the time to worry about what the air's like, anyways. Still, it makes me, with my already hyped up nerves, feel nauseous.

We stop as Boggs holds up one hand, his eyes darting around the corridor and his back tense. He goes to one of the thick wooden doors that line the hall and presses his ear to the door, pausing for a long moment. He silently waves for another of our team to come over, Robert, I think his name was.

Robert fiddles with the knob at Boggs's mute gesture, and not a minute later, the door springs open. But that minute sure was a long one. Just past the two of them, I could make out a figure huddled on the floor, unrecognizable to me by this darkness. I hadn't heard it before, but now the raspy mumbling coming from the open cell was clear in the dead silence. I'm glad Boggs is leading the mission; I never would've heard that voice on my own.

The two others rush into the room and come out carefully cradling an emaciated woman I barely recognize as Johanna from the last Games. I don't think she sees us; her gaze is distant and unfocused, and her mouth keeps moving, but the words are unintelligible. I'd heard from the report that Peeta's cell and Johanna's were right next to each other, but I don't know how we would've found either of the cells if not for Boggs.

Robert and I go to the cell on the left and, after some fiddling with the lock on his part, enter the room. I can instantly tell that the person hunched up against the far wall is Peeta; unlike Johanna, it had only been a few days since I'd seen him on the Capitol's televised program, and it didn't look as if they'd tortured him as much as they had her. Probably because they knew he had no knowledge of the rebels.

He doesn't move as Robert and I approach him, and for a moment, I worry that maybe it's already too late. What an awful death; dying alone in a place as horrid as this, his last moments being imprisoned and wondering what was happening to the girl he loved, not knowing his family was already dead, that everything he knew was gone.

For a moment, I feel a pang of sympathy for him. Even if he is competing with me for Katniss, I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Especially since I could never really bring myself to hate Peeta in the first place.

Robert kneels in front of him and checks for a pulse, then gives me a slight nod. He was still alive after all. I gently pick Peeta up in my arms; he's lighter than I expect, making me wonder just how fragile he is right now. He's lost a lot of weight since I last saw him in person, and there are cuts and bruises all over his body.

We go back into the hall to find the others waiting for us. At a nod from Boggs, all of us head as quickly as we can back the way we came, though we're hampered by our two incapacitated new members and the need for silence. It isn't long before we reach the surface, my lungs working as I breathe in the cool, fresh air that doesn't hold the lingering scent of death.

We get about five blocks before the shots ring out. I duck behind a disused building with Boggs and Robert as the others dash for cover on the other side of the street. Boggs and I exchange a glance and I transfer the still unmoving Peeta to Roberts, who silently makes his way through a backstreet and heads towards the waiting hovercraft.

It was part of the plan. Boggs, someone named Rory, and I would stay back if we got discovered and hold off our pursuers for as long as we could before following after the rest of our team, who were to take Peeta and the others to the hovercraft and wait for as long as they could for us. If we didn't show back up ten minutes after we separated, we were to be assumed dead and the hovercraft would leave without us.

Boggs and I quickly position ourselves behind the building and take aim at the Peacemakers running in our direction. We manage to get a few hits in before they take cover, shooting at random intervals while Boggs and I switch between the position of watchman and gunner. I nearly shoot Rory when he joins us, having snuck into the building and climbing out right next to where we were standing.

During our exchange fires, the Peacemakers have been steadily advancing across the street as we gradually fall back. It feels like hours before Boggs gives the signal to retreat, a sign that five minutes have passed and we need to run for the hovercraft before it leaves. Boggs runs and cuts down a side street with Rory and me close behind, and we end up coming onto a main road before running on again.

I'll never understand how the Capitol citizens manage to navigate their way through this place; every building is the same as the next, differing only in obnoxious color and decoration, but otherwise the same in trying to find a landmark. Luckily Boggs is leading, so I don't have to worry about getting lost; I saw him studying the Capitol's map the entire way up here.

A bullet ricochets off the pole I just passed, making me flinch. I have to fight the urge to duck for cover and return fire; we have to get to the meeting place before we end up stuck here.

The shots continue, though, whistling dangerously close by as we zigzag and duck to avoid making easy targets. We're finally within sight of the hovercraft, just a few abandoned houses away when my shoulder bursts in pain and I fall to the ground, not quite managing to stifle my cry as I hit the hard asphalt.

For a minute, I think this is the end. The others will make it to the hovercraft without knowing I've even fallen behind in their hurry, and once they look back, they'll see me lying on the ground before the Peacemakers converge on me and take me back to that death chamber we'd just left.

Then I feel strong arms hoist me up and we're moving again, my shoulder jerking painfully with the motion. I hear shouts up ahead, but all I can register is the explosion of frayed nerves being torn apart with each step we take, until suddenly a rush of cold air envelopes me and I open my eyes to see that we're inside of the hovercraft. People are scattering around, getting to the controls, applying first-aid to the injured and the rescued. I see Annie and all of the other members of our team, but no Enobaria. Had something happened to her?

I let out a small gasp as Boggs sets me down on one of the chairs, and I see that his chest is covered in scarlet. I'm about to ask if he's all right, because to see him standing there looking perfectly normal, you'd think he was. But my voice is caught in my throat and comes out as a sort of strangled cough, and one of the medics asks instead before I can recover myself. He shakes his head and glances at me and I realize that it isn't his blood; it's mine.

Someone is at my shoulder, carefully peeling my shirt back from the wound and putting something on it. I turn to look back at Boggs, wanting to thank him, but I think he anticipates it and just nods briefly, turning to speak in hushed tones with one of the team members who went to get Annie and Enobaria.

I can see Peeta over the medic's shoulder, sitting on the bench right beside me as someone looks him over for any serious injuries. But I don't think they'll find anything; it won't be his body that's damaged, but his mind.

Suddenly, Peeta's eyes are locked on mine, though I hadn't realized they'd even been open before. He blinks slowly, tiredly, and I don't think he understands what's going on. I try to give him a reassuring smile, but I'm sure it comes out as a grimace. It's okay, though, because he doesn't seem to notice.

The trip back to 13 is interspersed with short bursts of pain as we hit rocky air currents and slips into relieving unconsciousness. Everything is a blur until I see Katniss pushing her way through a crowd of people and suddenly I recognize that I'm in the hospital of 13, sitting on a table as someone pokes around in my shoulder trying to remove the bullet. She calls my name, but someone ushers her back through the door. The look of evident relief and happiness on her face at seeing me alive is enough, though.

It isn't until much later that I hear about her "reunion" with Peeta. After the event had already happened, I was knocked out with sedatives to help me get to sleep. I think they wanted to keep what had happened a secret from me as long as they could, but almost as soon as I wake up, I want to see Katniss.

One of the medics reluctantly tells me what happened when I press the subject, and after some more convincing, she finally takes me to Katniss's room. I'd lost count of how many times I'd seen Katniss in the hospital lately, and the reasons seemed equally due to bodily injuries as well as mental.

She seems to be sleeping as I come to stand by her bed, the nurse having already left to get back to work. I can see the edges of dark bruises lining her neck just underneath her shirt collar, and I feel a pang of loneliness, though I'm not sure whether it's for me or for her.

I bend down and gently kiss her between her eyes, then hurry off before she can wake up. I wait outside her door for a moment, though, listening to her gentle, rhythmic breathing that comes so difficultly for her these days.

This isn't going to happen a second time. I don't care what I have to do to make it happen, but I won't let Katniss be hurt like this again.

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Hey, so did anyone notice that I didn't use any dialogue in this chapter (except for the two already-written lines in the flashback)? ;)

Oh, and uh, sorry if I butchered the tenses. I _**always **_**use past tense; this is the first time I've ever tried to write anything in present tense, so please bear with me. I think my style might've changed halfway through the chapter, too. =\ Oh well, that's what you get for working on it at different times, right? Oh, and if you see any mistakes, feel free to point them out! I love concrit. ^^**

**The way things are going, it looks like I'll have two or three (**_**maybe **_**four) more updates after this: when Gale was captured into when the bombs went off and he talked to Katniss, and my own little scene that shall be inserted between the last chapter and the epilogue of Mockingjay. I might do a whole chapter of requested scenes if I can get enough people telling me which they want, but otherwise, that should be about it.**

**R&R, please~ You're %100 guaranteed to make my day if you do. :3**


	3. Chapter 3

**Due to extreme laziness and frustration, the chapters from here on out are all just going to be in past tense. I hate trying to get present tense right and it takes so much longer to write that way because I have to **_**think **_**about every word and I figure you guys won't mind too much anyways. **

**Thanks again to Shadow, Flyza, Aranka Bloemberg, and hit-the-duckies for your reviews! I squeed with fangirlish delight at them all. :3**

**Sorry for the really long wait, guys! Here's the new chapter/segment/whatever-you-call-it.**

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"Gale?" I heard her call. "Gale?" Her voice was filled with rising panic, making it easy to find her. She was embracing a lamppost about three doors down from where I clung to an iron grating, looking as if she was still falling. Her hair was hanging in loose strands around her face, emphasizing her large, scared eyes.

"Over here!" I called to her. She looked around for a moment, confused, before she caught sight of me. Her gaze travelled to the door in front of me, which I'd been continually kicking in hopes of opening, but with no results.

"Cover yourself!" she yelled. I turned away and my arm half-rose to cover my face as a continuous pelt of bullets sounded uncomfortably close to my right, like some sort of metallic rain. A few seconds later, the door flew open and I hurriedly swung inside, collapsing ungracefully onto the threshold.

I barely had time to exhale a sigh of relief when they appeared. White-gloved hands converged on me from the darkness of the house's interior, instantly immobilizing my hands and dragging me further inside. I turned to where Katniss still stood, looking on with horror and mouthed the words I knew she'd understand: _Shoot me_.

I wouldn't let myself be tortured by Peacemakers; it would only hurt her just like it had with Peeta, and the pain they'd no doubt cause me would be too much to stand. But she didn't understand. I tried again, but she only shook her head in confusion at me. Dismay clawed at my stomach, more intense than I'd ever known, as I shouted, "Go!"

She turned and ran without a backward glance, but the face she'd pulled before she'd fled had told me enough of her self-loathing that I knew she didn't want anything to do with abandoning me. But she had to go before they recognized her; she had to get to Snow and kill him, and put an end to this war once and for all.

I sorely regretted giving my nightlock to Peeta earlier, because now, as the Peacemakers shut the door and any chance of escape I might've had, I wanted it more than anything else.

One of them flicked a light switch as two others held me face-down on the red velvet carpet, another standing just in front of me. Four, then. Those would be hard odds to overcome since they had just whisked my bow and arrows away. I still had my gun, the cold metal pressing against my skin through the thin material of my pocket where I had stowed it before the pod had activated just moments ago. The problem would be reaching it.

The Peacemaker standing in front of me crouched down, his eyes narrowing as his eyes flitted over my face. "We've captured the rebel Gale Hawthorne," he said, straightening and half-turning so he didn't face me. He must've spoken into some sort of radio, because there was a short crackling and then a garbled reply from a small device on his shirt that I hadn't noticed before. "Yes, we'll come right away."

Turning back around, the Peacemaker nodded briefly at the two holding me and they hefted me up, still unrelenting in their grip; the other Peacemaker across the room had a gun trained just above my heart. It would be near impossible to find an opening, so I let them lead me out through the back door of the house, struggling to keep up as the Peacemakers half-dragged me with them.

I didn't know where we were going or where we were until I glimpsed the people milling around, looking defeated and tired. The City Circle was just a few yards away, so close to where Snow must be hiding and where Katniss must be headed that I could almost feel their presence.

I decided that now was my best shot. Twisting my right shoulder down, hard, I jerked one of the Peacemakers off balance and kicked my foot out, striking him square in the chest. The other Peacemaker holding me was caught by surprise, but ready for me when I swung around to face him.

I ducked as he lunged forward, punching his face before he could pull back. He let out a cry of pain at almost the same exact time I did, a bullet piercing the upper part of my shoulder. I staggered back, hand clutching at the streaming blood, and caught sight of the third Peacemaker taking aim at me once more while the fourth loaded his gun. What kind of idiot didn't already have their gun loaded when they went out to a battlefield?

Gritting my teeth, I swerved to make myself a harder target and just narrowly missed getting my ear lobbed off by a bullet. Pulling out my own gun, I took quick aim and felt the weapon kick back in my hand. Either years of hunting had honed my skills or luck was on my side, because the Peacemaker crumpled to the ground, gasping as he stared blankly at the hole in his stomach.

As I spun around, gun locked on the last Peacemaker, the one who had recognized me earlier, I saw that his gun was trained unwaveringly on me as well. Looked like he had gotten it loaded.

We stood there for a moment, neither of us saying anything. I gasped as my shoulder burned, like acid running through my blood, my hand trembling slightly with the effort of keeping it fastened on the Peacemaker.

He must've noticed my weakness, because he smirked, saying smugly, "Why don't you just quietly come with us? You won't be able to escape." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the second Peacemaker I'd knocked down standing back up; the first was trying to help the third, but it didn't look like any of them had any kind of medical supplies on them.

"I think I'll take my chances," I gritted out. His face contorted and we both pulled the triggers. A second later, he had fallen to the ground, gagging as he tried to grab wildly at his gaping throat. I was almost doubled over in pain at his bullet that hit home in my stomach, but somehow I managed to push past it and ended up running back to the City Circle.

Everything seemed to be moving so slowly. I could hear the pounding of footsteps behind me, saw shapes dart past me back the way I had come and a round of bullets going off, followed my screams that were cut off abruptly. I only managed another step before I fell, but someone caught me and hauled me up, saying something that I couldn't understand.

"Soldier Hawthorn," I finally made out. It was Robert. He sounded strange, his voice warbled somehow.

"City Circle," I gasped out. He looked at me hard for a long moment before finally seeming to make up his mind, because he hoisted my arm over his shoulder and half-carried me to the City Circle. From here, I could see some kind of concrete wall surrounding a mansion that had to be Snow's.

Relief welled inside me; Katniss had to be there. She wouldn't be anywhere else, not when she thought she'd lost everything already. When the hovercraft appeared and the silver parachutes dropped, I couldn't figure out what was going on. Then they exploded. Even from where Robert and I stood, hundreds of feet away, I could feel the intensity of the blast, a wave of heat and small pieces of rubble catching at me.

I don't know when or how I had lifted my arm to cover my face, but now that I lowered it, I felt my stomach drop as I saw the damage. Half of the concrete wall had been blown apart, the front of the mansion just barely still intact. Cries and screams rent the air as medics swarmed into the mansion grounds to help those that could still be helped.

I thought I recognized some of the people going in; Rosette, Leeya, Nylon, John. For a moment, I could've sworn I saw Prim in among them; but that couldn't be right. Prim wasn't fourteen yet. There was no way she could be on the battlefield.

Coughing, my hand flew to my mouth as I nearly collapsed; only Robert stopped me from doing so.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "We need to get you to some medics."

Before I could reply, before I could even think of what to reply with, the second round of explosions went off. The shock of the blossoming fires and the realization that came a moment later, that this was exactly like the plan Beetee and I had worked out, and the simple fact that Katniss might be in there did for me what the two bullets hadn't. All I remembered after that was plummeting into a dark hole where nothing grew and no hope flowered.

One week in the hospital. Another week in District 2 taking out the rest of the resisting Peacemakers. Nothing seemed real. Nothing was real; not after I heard about Katniss and Prim. I tried not to think, just concentrated on my work. I was successful until it was time to return to the ruined Capitol. Time to face Katniss.

I already knew how it would go. She would hate me; I would forever be connected to her sister's death, and nothing I could ever say or do would change that. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of Katniss's room, where I knew her prep team would be working their magic on her.

Knocking softly, I step in after only a brief interval of waiting. "Can I have a minute?" I asked, directing my question to the prep team. They scattered clumsily before filling into the bathroom and leaving me and Katniss alone. She was facing a large oval mirror, looking at my reflection, but she didn't turn around at my approach.

I wondered what she was thinking right then. If she already knew she wouldn't ever trust me again or if she was still debating it. But that was just the way she was, wasn't it? "I brought you this." I hand her a sheath, one lone, ordinary arrow sticking out from the top. "It's supposed to be symbolic. You firing the last shot of the war."

"What if I miss?" she asked, somewhat resentfully. "Does Coin retrieve it and bring it back to me? Or just shoot Snow through the head herself?" Her eyes had become harder than I'd ever seen them, no doubt from the recent losses that she had endured. I wished I could remind her that she wasn't the only one suffering, that everyone else was in pain and that it seemed like she was forgetting that while she drowned in her own puddle of self-misery, but that hardly seemed appropriate. Who wouldn't be in her condition after all that had happened?

"You won't miss," I said firmly, adjusting the sheath on her shoulder. I wondered if it bothered her that I was so close to her, but she didn't seem to pay the fact any mind. We stood there for a long time, but neither of us could get up the courage to look each other in the eyes.

"You didn't come see me in the hospital," she finally said. _I thought it would only hurt you more. _But of course I didn't say this out loud. She seemed to take my silence as a cue to get on to what she really wanted to ask, because she said, "Was it your bomb?"

"I don't know. Neither does Beetee," I answered, distantly recalling the conversation I'd had with him on the way back to the Capitol from District 2. "Does it matter? You'll always be thinking about it." I waited for her to deny it, because this was my last hope, my last chance of ever being with the one person I loved more than anyone else in this world. The person I'd been fighting the war for the entire time, the best friend I'd had for five years, my hunting partner, so many names that couldn't even be spoken that it ripped my heart apart when she didn't reply. Her silence was a more definite answer than if she had spoken.

"That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family," I said humorlessly. "Shoot straight, okay?" I lightly touched her cheek, acutely aware that this might be the last time I'd ever see her like this, that I'd never be able to touch her again in such an intimate way. My hand fell and the moment was over.

As I turned back towards the door, I waited one last time to hear her call my name like only she could, the only person who could make me feel anything in just that one word. But there was nothing, and I couldn't say that I had truly expected anything more.

Not an hour later, I stood in among the crowd that had gathered to see Snow's execution. Katniss was positioned just about ten yards in front of him, the latter being tethered to prevent escape. But where would he run to? To the angry crowd that blamed him completely for everything bad that had happened since the beginning of this country? It wasn't just the people that surrounded him; it was the innumerous deaths, the countless homes destroyed, the reminders that littered the country no matter where you looked. No, there would be no escape but the one granted by Katniss's arrow.

But then something passed across her face, an expression I didn't recognize but knew would always remain engraved in my memory. Her bow tilted up and before anyone had realized the change, she had already shot the arrow and struck Coin where she stood on a balcony. The rebel leader doesn't even make a noise; just plummets over the rail and strikes the ground, instantly dead. After all, there was no way Katniss would miss her mark.

That was when Snow laughed, shattering the shocked silence. He was half-choking, a stream of blood trickling down the side of his mouth, his life slowly draining away with the rest of what little sanity had been remaining here before that arrow's fateful flight.

The guards started to converge on Katniss and I hurried forward, shoving my way through the crowd to get to her. Peeta beat me there, just as he beat me to everything else in my life. I couldn't see clearly what was going on, but I thought I knew; Katniss was about to take the nightlock and Peeta stopped her. She was trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn't loosen his grip and the intense expression on his face made me stop in my tracks.

I remembered something I'd said a long time ago. Something about how it would be a lot easier to hate Peeta if he wasn't so likable. He cared about her just like I did, and since Katniss no longer trusted me, that meant he was the only one who had a chance of bringing her back from the abyss she'd fallen into.

It was time to accept it. Katniss was no longer mine and probably never had been to start with.

When she screamed my name, it was almost unbearable. She didn't call for my name because she wanted me, but because I was her last resort; her last chance for death, a way out of reality. The way she yelled was unbearable, like a bird being stabbed through a dozen times but somehow still alive. A dying Mockingjay.

_I'm sorry, Katniss._

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**Uuugh, this chapter suuuuucked. D: I'm thinking I might have to change my rating on this, too, now…**

**To be totally honest, I've already lost my enthusiasm for this fic. Lately my original that I put on hold has been calling for me to write it, and so, I have. Don't know when the next update will be, but hopefully I'll have all of this finished before November when NaNoWriMo starts. I'm going for my second win this year! Is anyone else participating?**

**R&R~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again, sorry for the really, really long wait. I actually wanted to work on this chapter for the past two weeks, too, but time hates me and all that I stand for. D: Anyways, thanks to all my reviewers and I hope everyone enjoys the update! I made it longer to make up for the delayed update, if that's any consolation. :3**

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"Hey, Hawthorne!" I looked over my shoulder to see Alice striding towards me, a scowl on her face and her silvery-blue eyes fierce.

"What is it?" I asked, wiping my hands off on a towel as I glanced down at her. All around me, people were shouting directions, hammers were pounding nails into place, and District 2 was slowly rising from the ground. Reconstruction had been going on for almost a year now, and I'd insisted on helping out; hands were short enough as it was and no one really objected my offer.

Alice nimbly scaled the scaffolding I was perched on, making her way with the ease and grace of someone used to being around construction sites. She stopped when she reached my level, hardly out of breath as she stared me down. I wondered what I'd done this time, but my unasked question was soon answered.

"Don't you know what day it is?" she demanded. I shook my head slowly, not even trying to remember what obscure reason I could have for remembering this day in particular. There was nothing all that special about it; a little cloudy, the bustle of people no less crowded than usual, no special announcements spreading around from the Free Capitol. Nothing.

She sighed irately, coming closer and squatting down so we were on eye-level. "Today is the one year anniversary of when the Capitol fell! You'd think you'd remember, considering that you were one of the major rebels. I mean, you were the right-hand man of the Mockingjay for crying out loud!" I winced, scratching the back of my head and looking away to cover up for it. She noticed, though. Just like she always did.

Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Why do you always look like a kicked puppy when someone mentions the Mockingjay?" More gently, she added, "You never told me what happened to drive a wedge between you two." She stood back up again and peered at me closely.

I shrugged, still not looking at her. I tried to avoid thinking too much about Katniss; if I kept busy, it wasn't too hard. I thought that too much time had passed with me trying not to think about her, because suddenly the guilt flooded over me as fresh and new as it had been on that very first day.

It wasn't as if I had succeeded in never thinking about her—I don't think that would be possible. The first few weeks were the hardest, especially with the trial, but I'd managed. There had been so much to do that it wasn't hard to keep myself occupied.

But lately, word on the Mockingjay had died down now that she wasn't heroically saving the day or speaking out in the name of justice. I had mixed feelings of relief and anxiety over this; relief that there were no longer constant reminders everywhere I turned, and anxiety that I no longer had any idea what was going on in her life.

I glanced up at Alice again, standing tall and certain on the scaffolding as she waited for me to reply. She'd been a rebel, too, though not directly; her father had run a carpentry business and secretly smuggled supplies to District 13 during the war, hiding their soldiers when they were in town as well. Once the Capitol had found out, though, they sent in their own soldiers and killed both her parents. Now she was completely alone.

"What do you want me to say?" I finally asked, shrugging again. "The war is over. Done. It's time to start fresh."

She narrowed her eyes. In a lofty voice that I instantly recognized, she said, "Well, if that's true, don't you think you need to completely resolve your past before you can start a new future? Seems you have a lot of guilt on your shoulders for someone who's supposedly starting anew." She was challenging me.

"Perhaps," I smiled.

She sighed again. She seemed to do that a lot when she was around me. "Look, truth is, there's somewhere I have to go today, and I want you to come with me."

"Me?" I blinked. "What for?"

"No questions," she replied curtly. "Meet me at the station in an hour—and pack enough stuff for a week-long trip. Maybe more if we decide to stay longer."

I shook my head, saying, "You're not being very clear."

"I'm aware," she replied, grinning. "You gonna be there, or not?"

Now it was my turn to sigh. "Why not?"

I knew as soon as we passed over the blackened ashes that I had made a mistake in saying I'd go with Alice. In the hovercraft, it was nearly impossible not to know exactly where we were headed, and with the burned out skeletons of buildings and still-dead greenery, the realization was struck in deep.

"We're going to District Twelve," I said, as if saying the words aloud would make me feel any better. They didn't.

I spun around to face Alice, feeling sick. "What is this?"

She was sitting on one of the benches, idly kicking her feet. But from the look on her face, I could tell she was choosing her words delicately. "You've seemed really troubled lately," she finally answered. "Well, you seemed really troubled before that, too. I figured forcing you to face your past would make you feel better in the long-run, even if it doesn't feel like the best thing in the world at the moment."

"Who are you to decide that?" I demanded, suddenly furious. "I've hardly even known you for a year! What kind of importance do you think you have in my life to make such a choice for me?"

If my words struck a chord in her, she didn't show it. But she didn't have to; I knew I'd hurt her, and even if it had been what I'd wanted, it didn't make me feel any better. Actually, it made me feel worse about the entire situation. Sitting down, I made a silent resolution not to say anything else before we got to the Seam.

"I had to come here anyways," Alice said, staring past my shoulder at the window. "I was asked to deliver some construction tools to District Twelve since they got hit the worst in the war. They wanted me to stay a little while and make sure everything was going alright, too, and make a report on what's going on. I don't know anyone there and I'd get lost way too easily—you know I have a terrible sense of direction—so I thought I'd bring someone along who could help me out and keep me company. You were the first person who came to mind."

"I wish I hadn't been," I muttered, already breaking my resolution. _Crap. _This trip was not starting out well. Not that I had thought it would be going well over the course of things, either, but still.

"Is it really that bad?" Alice asked, suddenly intensely focused. I couldn't meet her piercing gaze. It was the same one she had had the first day we'd met.

I still remembered walking into the carpenter's shop to pick up more supplies for the construction site I'd been working on at the time. It was my first time actually going into the shop; before, I had always waited while the others picked up the ordered materials, but today, I was alone.

The carpenter's shop was one of the only buildings that was still standing without danger of giving way at the time, but it had suffered the damage of war as much as the rest of the District. It was simply-built, made completely out of wooden planks held together with only nails and sheer willpower on its part. Frankly, I was surprised something so flimsy-looking had survived the war.

A bell tinkled overhead as I stepped inside, and the girl behind the counter looked up from whatever project she was working on, setting down the hammer and nails she held in her hands. She dusted her hands off on her apron briskly, asking, "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to pick up the order for Construction Site 109," I told her. There were so many buildings being rebuilt that each one had a number now, making them easier to keep track of.

She nodded absently, saying, "Of course." Disappearing into the back room, I heard a shuffling sound as she searched among the stack of crates I could just see from my vantage point. I looked down at what she'd been working on before I'd come in, curious, but I couldn't tell what it was.

She caught me gazing at it when she came back out and gave a sort of half-smile. "Your order," she said in a business-like tone, placing a medium-sized crate on the counter.

"What is that?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me as I nodded to the strange device on the counter. She'd already seen me staring at it, anyways.

"Just an experiment I'm working on," she answered, glancing at it as she crossed something out on a list.

"An experiment?" I echoed.

"I'm trying to make a new reinforcement," she explained. "Some of the buildings are still in place around here, but they're unstable. I was hoping to make something that would make sure they don't suddenly collapse."

"Sounds like a good idea," I replied, still staring at the object. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, but the best of luck to this girl if she could figure out how to make it work. Which reminded me… "What's your name?"

"Isn't it common courtesy to offer your own name first?" she asked, the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Whoever said that I listened to common courtesy?" I retorted.

She smiled, a real one this time, and said, "The name's Alice. Nice to meet you, Mr. Lacking-in-Manners."

I smiled back, answering with, "I'm Gale."

"You aren't by chance Gale _Hawthorne, _are you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly as she re-examined me.

I couldn't go anywhere these days without being known as _the _Gale Hawthorne. Everyone talked to me so politely that I wondered who they thought I was; some king? It was one of the main reasons I found myself alone all the time; people tended to give me space, and most of the rebels that were sent down here after the war weren't people I knew. They acted the same way as the normal citizens.

"Yeah," I answered, my tone betraying my tiredness at the question.

She was silent for a moment, considering, before she said, "Smith." When I just stared at her, she explained. "I know your first and last name now, so I figured you should know my full name, too." She raised an eyebrow questioningly and asked, "I hope you weren't expecting anything different?"

"Expecting, yes; hoping for, no," I chuckled, picking up the crate. "I have to get back to work, but…would you mind if I came over again some time? You'll have to show me how that creation of yours works."

She grinned, replying, "Stop by anytime, Hawthorne."

After that, I went over to her place a lot. Mostly I just listened as she explained her work, watching as she handled a hammer or screw perfectly, or served a customer that came to pick up or order supplies. For the most part, those days were quiet and peaceful; I reveled in the comfortable silence Alice and I could hold together. We didn't have to say anything to be at ease, and sometimes, we went a whole day passing only a few words.

Sometime after that, we started to talk about more complex things. I don't remember what it was that started it, but one day Alice started to talk about her family. Mostly her dad, but her mom, too. She went on and on as if she couldn't help it, and suddenly, I wondered how long she'd been keeping all these feelings in.

I only listened, mostly because I didn't know what to say. I didn't think I had to say anything, though; she just wanted to talk. She didn't need anyone to tell her that everything would be okay, because she knew things wouldn't ever go back to what they were before the war; she didn't need advice, because she'd already heard it all and she knew what she needed to do. She just needed someone who would listen to every word she had to say, every memory that she wanted to share or say aloud.

She never cried. I thought it was because she already had, long before I'd met her, but maybe it was because she knew who she was talking to and that I was no stranger to death. Or maybe it was because she was no stranger to death, either; she must've known a lot of people that died in the war, close friends and neighbors that went to fight and never came back.

I sometimes offered my condolences, and on the rare occasions that I did, she actually seemed to take them to heart. She asked me a few times if there was anything I wanted to talk about, mostly after one of her especially long recollections, but I always said I didn't. I wasn't ready. I didn't say it aloud, but I thought she knew.

Now, I looked up at Alice, sitting across from me on the hovercraft, and I thought that she knew what I was thinking about. I still wasn't ready. I didn't think I'd ever be ready, not for this. No matter how much time passed or however much Alice tried to pry me open, that was the plain and simple truth.

A heavy silence filled the small room as the Seam came into sight. I could see the beginnings of reconstruction going on here, too, though not as industriously as in District 2. Alice had been right; they lacked the proper equipment and supplies. When the bombs hit near the beginning of the war, they'd lost what little they'd had left. Maybe it would've been easier to start completely from scratch if they had an indefinite amount of supplies headed their way, but they didn't. All of the Districts were low on supplies; the war had been costly in more than just lives.

Alice didn't press me to talk or even give directions as the hovercraft dropped us off with our luggage. We were supposed to come out to the station again later that night after we'd unpacked and all of the supplies had come in, so until then, we had the day to do whatever we wanted. Which, for me, constituted staying locked up in my room and avoiding any of the memories that might try to come and haunt me.

I think a part of me died inside when we were told we'd be staying at Victor's Village. It was the only part of the Seam that had remained undamaged after the bombing, so there were a lot of people going in and out of the mansion-like buildings when we arrived. I'd kept my head down and my hood up as we walked through town, grateful for the cold weather that gave me an excuse to hide my face.

Almost as soon as we checked in at one of the buildings, I felt my heart skip a beat. We were staying in Katniss's house. I didn't know if she still lived there or not, but it was enough to get me out of the all-too-reminiscent setting as soon as I dropped my bags in the room I had to share with Alice. I didn't say where I was going or when I'd be back, and she didn't ask.

I didn't think about where I was going; I just let my feet guide me. It figured that I would end up in the old woods I'd hunted in with Katniss for the better part of four years. The fence had been taken down, so it wasn't hard to get there, but all of the landmarks had been wiped out, making it difficult to know exactly where I was.

I recognized enough to get where I wanted to go, though. A few minutes later, I was sitting on top of the rock where Katniss and I always used to meet up at before going to hunt. I let myself succumb to those memories of happier times, times when I could speak to Katniss whenever and about whatever I wanted—and did. Times when I could see her everyday and know exactly what she was about to do by the way she moved lithely through the forest.

A pang filled my chest as soon as I pulled myself out of these memories, and I suddenly realized how much I missed her. I'd been keeping myself distracted for so long, keeping everything at bay, that I now wondered what I'd been doing for this past year.

The smallest crunch of footsteps on dead leaves behind me told me that I wasn't alone. I waited, already guessing who it was and viewing her arrival with a mixed sense of dread and happiness. There was a pause; she must've been deciding whether to turn back or not, but she seemed to have decided the latter since she came and silently sat next to me on our rock.

Neither of us said anything for a long time; the wind brushing through the leaves overheard was the only noise I could hear, along with the occasional cry of a bird.

She broke the silence first. "Hey, Gale," she whispered quietly, as if speaking too loudly would scare me away.

"Hey, Katniss," I replied just as softly.

"I didn't know you were in town," she said after a pause.

"I just arrived a little while ago," I answered. More silence. "The Seam really looks different, huh?"

"Yeah," Katniss replied. "Construction is coming along well. The Seam will look even better than before once it's done."

"That's great," I commented, though I sounded more tired than enthusiastic even to my own ears. Look at us, I thought. We used to be able to hear each other's heartbeats we were so in synch, and now, we were like perfect strangers. Next we'd be talking about the weather.

"Gale," Katniss said softly. "Why haven't you come back before now?" I almost didn't hear her she was so quiet. I hesitated, not really wanting to answer, and instead picked a berry that was growing at the base of the rock. Twirling it in my fingers, I gave it much more consideration than it probably needed, warring with myself as she waited for me to say something.

"I didn't want to be reminded of…everything," I finally told her, still looking at the berry. "I didn't think you'd want to see my face, either." I paused. "Why didn't you ever try and find me?" The little fruit was still between my fingers as I waited to hear her reply, but she had none.

I finally turned and faced her for the first time in a year, searching her face for something I knew I wouldn't find. The anxiety was there, and the relief and maybe even happiness at seeing me again were, too. But there was no sign of the longing like the one I felt eating at me right now. There was no shine in her eye like she used to have when she spoke to me.

She didn't need me anymore. Maybe she never really did to begin with.

I looked away, not able to directly face the fact that she had moved on and I hadn't. I hated myself for being so weak, but I couldn't help it; I had made her my everything and I was almost nothing to her.

Katniss must've known what was going through my head, because she didn't bother to try and start the conversation up again. I don't know how long we sat there like that before she must've felt the need to finally say something. "I really did miss you, Gale. You were always the one person I could turn to, and I didn't completely realize it until you were gone. I've wanted to talk to you so much, but…I was afraid. I don't blame you about…Prim anymore, either. It doesn't really matter anymore, does it; whose fault it was or why it happened. What's done is done. But, Gale, I want to say the words I should've said a year ago."

She turned and face me, her eyes set as they locked with mine. "I'm sorry for the way I acted before. I know it wasn't your fault that Prim died, and I shouldn't have held that against you. But I did. And I know nothing I can do will ever be enough to make up for it, but I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry."

I was silent again, retreating back in on myself for a moment as I averted my eyes. It wasn't a hard decision to make, though, nor one that really considered much thought. I threw the berry up in the air, saying in a heavily accented voice, "And may the odds…"

"Be _ever _in your favor," Katniss finished dramatically, catching the berry deftly in her mouth. She gave a small, hesitant smile that I returned just as uncertainly. Maybe coming back hadn't been as bad as I'd thought after all.

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**Oh my goooooosh, this chapter sucked. D:**

**So basically, I've decided I'm gonna have to add another chapter in order to wrap this up nicely, along with my chapter of nothing but requested scenes. Unfortunately (for you guys), this will be my last update until November ends, as I will be actively participating in NaNoWriMo (which I strongly encourage everyone to try). **

**I've been wondering, but…am I overdoing it with this fic? I feel like I am, especially with these later chapters. If you could take the time to give me some advice on how to make my writing better, I'd really appreciate it. **

**See you in December~ **


	5. Chapter 5

**Um, um, um, ummmmm…Please don't maul me? D: I'm sorry it took me three months to actually write this chapter, but everything was so busy with NaNo, and exams, and then finishing my NaNo story, and since I finally just finished said story (117,197 words total, by the way :D) I decided this chapter was long past due in needing to be written. Hope you enjoy~!**

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Katniss and I walked back to her house together. The words we exchanged were still awkward, and it took effort at some points to even say anything, but it was progress. After so long apart, neither of us knew what to say, so for the most part, we just asked questions about what the other had been doing this past year.

When we arrived back, it was almost dark, and I was surprised to see Alice leaning against one of the mansion's walls, breathing warm air onto her cupped hands and rubbing them together. She looked up when she noticed me coming, a reflexive smile spreading across her face that froze when she saw who was with me.

"What are you doing out here in the cold?" I asked, coming to stand right in front of her.

"I was waiting for you," Alice answered. "We have to go get the supplies tonight, remember?"

"You could've just stayed inside," I mumbled, still feeling guilty about our last conversation. Looking back now, maybe I shouldn't have snapped at her like that; she was only trying to help me, and it had turned out alright in the end.

"You must be Alice," Katniss intervened, holding out a hesitant hand towards her. "Gale told me a bit about you just now."

"That must make you Katniss, then," Alice replied, a bit stiffly, I thought, shaking Katniss's proffered hand. "I've heard everything about you for the past few years."

Katniss withdrew her hand with a rueful grin, answering, "I wish that hadn't been the case. Anyways, thank you for coming down to District Twelve to help out; we really need it."

"Just doing my job," Alice replied neutrally, grabbing my forearm and tugging me along as she called over her shoulder, "Sorry, but we have to get going. Work and all, you know."

Once I was sure Katniss was out of earshot, I asked, "What was that all about?"

"What?" Alice asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know what," I replied, irritated. "If there's something you want to say, then just say it."

Alice let out a heavy sigh, stopping to turn and face me. Her hands gripped my shoulders tightly as she stared right at me. "Gale, I know you used to love Katniss—everyone who was alive during the war knows—and maybe you still do, but that's none of my business. Just don't get hurt again, okay? You were a wreck when I first met you, and you have gotten better since then, but I don't want you to regress. So, just…be careful, okay?"

I nodded blankly and she released her grip, heading back in our original direction without another word. It wasn't until some time after that that I realized just what had unsettled me so much about her words; it was the first time she had ever called me by my first name.

XXX

That week passed by in a blur. Between working on construction sites, showing Alice around the Seam so she wouldn't get lost without me, helping her assess the District's current situation, and catching up with Katniss, I completely lost track of time. Before I knew it, it was the final day of our trip; that evening, I'd be returning to District 2.

I'd heard about Peeta and Katniss's relationship through the usual way I found out everything: town gossip. After everyone heard that I'd returned, many of my friends and comrades-in-arms came to greet me warmly, bringing with them news of what had happened while I was away.

Apparently they were practically inseparable. I had yet to speak to Peeta myself, and I had only glimpsed him in town a few times with Katniss when I was running errands, but I didn't need to to know it was true. Maybe I'd always known that they'd be together in the end; ever since their first Games together, everyone had known.

Alice seemed decidedly more distant. When I tried to start a conversation with her, her answers were short and brief, and she usually found a way to avoid talking to me for too long. Was she mad that I still hadn't apologized to her?

"What are you thinking about?" Katniss asked, tilting her head a bit.

"Going back to District Two," I answered, only half-lying. After only having spent a week here after having been gone so long compared to my year there, this felt much more comfortable. I was going to miss the place I'd grown up; District 2 was nice and all, and it was even in much better condition than the Seam, but it wasn't _home. _It never would be.

"Aren't you even a little excited?" Katniss questioned curiously. "You'll get to see your house again, and all your friends, too."

I didn't mention that I didn't have many friends over in District 2 and that the one I did have was currently avoiding me. My house itself felt like just a place to sleep; an air of loneliness had pervaded it since the first time I set foot through the door and I tried to stay out as much as I could.

"That's true," I said instead, forcing a smile. The old Katniss would've seen through me instantly, but as it was, she just smiled, satisfied that she had cheered me up some.

"What time do you have to go to the station, anyways?" she asked, a small frown replacing the content expression she'd had just a moment ago.

"Alice said it's six tonight," I answered. I hesitated, then finally asked what I'd been evading for a while. "How are you and Peeta?"

A smile instantly flashed across Katniss's face. "We've decided to get married in a few years," she answered happily. "We wanted to wait until things had settled down a bit more and we could raise a family without all of this construction going on." She seemed to remember she was talking to someone who once—and still did, though she didn't know it—loved her, and she clamped her mouth shut abruptly.

"So, how are you and Alice?" she asked nervously, changing the subject.

"What do you mean?" I asked, startled. "We work together on some construction projects, if that's what you mean."

"Oh, please, I've noticed the way she watches you," Katniss teased, shoving me playfully aside. "You'd have to be blind not to see that she cares for you."

I stared at her blankly and she blinked back in surprise. "You mean you honestly didn't know?"

"I think there's something I have to go do," I sighed, standing up abruptly. "Sorry, Katniss, but this is probably goodbye. It was…nice, being able to see you again."

"You, too, Gale," she replied, hugging me before I could react. I froze, but it clearly wasn't a gesture of love, so I reluctantly returned it. How strange, to be so hesitant around someone I used to spend every day with, shared all my secrets with. "See ya around, Catnip," I teased, pulling back and ruffling her hair like I used to when she was younger.

She grinned, and I headed on my way. Maybe it wasn't impossible to repair the damage between us, after all. I didn't think we'd ever be able to go back to the way things were before the entire war started, but however close we could was more than enough for me.

Back at the mansion, I entered an empty room. Not even her things were present, the miss noticeable in the fact that nothing was scattered around the room haphazardly like usual. None of her "organized mess," as she called it, was apparent at all.

I went over to the desk where I could see a single piece of folded paper and frowned, opening it up.

_Gale: _

_Sorry, but I lied about the time the hovercraft was leaving. You'd be better off staying here, right? You always wear this happy expression whenever I see you here; I never saw it back in District 2. Don't worry about your things over here; I'll have them sent down on the soonest possible flight. _

_Sorry about everything, Lacie_

Ten minutes later, I was panting for breath as I finally rounded the corner to the station, hastily packed bags in hand. I had no idea if the hovercraft had already left or not since she hadn't said what time it really departed, so I was left hoping that there was some slim chance that she had told me a time that wasn't more than a few hours off from the real thing.

There was no one in sight as I reached the inside of the station. I asked the woman standing behind the ticket counter when the flight for District 2 left and she just blinked at me. "I'm sorry, sir; the last hovercraft left about twenty minutes ago."

XXX

The shop was the same as ever when I stepped through the door. The same tinkling bell overhead as the door opened, the same barely contained mess, the same tools scattered on the workbench, the same Alice crouching over her newest work. She didn't even look up as I came in she was so engrossed in her creation.

I stood by the door, leaning against the frame as I waited for her to notice me. It took her a few minutes, but eventually, she did finally glance in my direction. And froze. I guess she hadn't been expecting me; I dropped my bags on the floor, since I came straight here from the station.

She stood, slowly, habitually, wiping her hands off on a rag. "What are you doing here?" she asked quietly. "Weren't you going to stay in District Twelve?"

"There you go again, deciding things on your own without even asking me," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Why can't you ever just tell me what you're thinking? Am I really that untrustworthy?"

"Wha—? No, of course not!" she faltered. "I trust you, Hawthorne."

"Then let me inside that head of yours a bit more sometimes," I replied, smiling as I strode towards her and wrapped my arms around her tightly before she could react. She stiffened, but didn't pull back, and eventually, she let herself lean into me as she buried her face in my chest.

"Why did you come back?" she asked softly. "Didn't you like it there? Don't you still love Katniss?"

"I came back because this is my home," I answered. "I did like it there, but it isn't where I belong anymore. As for Katniss…she has Peeta now. And I've got you."

She tilted her head back to look up at me then, a gentle smile touching her lips. She went on her tiptoes until she was face-to-face with me, pressing her lips gently against mine. I wrapped my arms around her waist, leaning forward.

The past was the past; I didn't need to live in it any longer when I had something real right in front of me.

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**I have to say, after having been so absorbed in my original story for such a long time, this chapter was really weird to write. That said, I hope it didn't come out toooo strange. Sorry it's so short; I just had nothing left to really add. T~T**

**The next update will be the last, with all of the requested scenes from everyone; it won't actually be a chapter, just a mish-mash of scenes all fit into one. If anyone has a last minute request, I'm accepting them up until I post the last chapter. **

**EDIT: FFnet totally got rid of my dashy things to show time had passed! D: To make up for that, I just put "XXX"; hope you guys don't mind.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I didn't think anyone was going to be dying for this chapter, which is part of the reason why I didn't write it until now. The larger part is because I've been really lazy and busy.**

**Okay, so, as aforementioned, this is a chapter just for scene requests. However, since I only got one, it's going to be a very short chapter.**

**Last update guys! Hope you enjoy it. :)**

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"_**The day of the first reaping, from [Gale and Katniss's] morning hunting to when Gale has to say goodbye to Katniss." – requested by hit-the-duckies**_

I'm waiting for Katniss in the usual spot in our woods, nervously contemplating the day. I would never tell her how uneasy I was feeling about the upcoming reaping. It might not mean anything; everyone always feels nervous on reaping day.

The fact that I have my name forty-two times in the drawing does not help my feeling any, though.

I glance up as the berry bushes surrounding our place rustle and Katniss steps out. I smile; seeing her never fails to calm my restless nerves. "Hey, Catnip," I welcome with a grin. I hold up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck through it, proclaiming, "Look what I shot."

She laughs, causing my grin to widen, and yanks the arrow out before deeply inhaling the smell of bread. Even from this distance I can catch the scent of it; it smells like what I would imagine paradise might smell like.

"Mm, still warm," Katniss says. "What did it cost you?" Guess she's not buying the hunting thing.

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," I say. I think back to this morning, when I went into the bakery before the sun was even up. Mr. Mellark had been standing behind the counter, as usual, but this time when I asked what I'd have to exchange for a fresh loaf of bread, he'd just smiled sadly and said it wouldn't take much today. "Even wished me luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" Katniss asks dryly. "Prim left us cheese," she added, pulling the chunk out from her bag.

I can almost feel myself lighten at the prospect of the meal. No crummy rations that are hardened with age and too small to ever be filling. "Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast." I think of something then, and switch into the Capitol accent associated with Effie Trinket. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" I pick some of the berries from the bushes around us, and toss one in the air toward Katniss. "And may the odds—"

She catches it easily and finishes with, "—be _ever_in your favor!" in her own Capitol accent. I pull out my knife and cut the bread, carefully placing cheese and basil leaves on each slice as Katniss relieves the surrounding bushes of all their berries. We settle back in a nook in the rocks, a seat that gives us a clear view of the valley.

I wish time would just freeze in this moment. I'm here with Katniss, we're eating real food, and life is beautiful around us. What more could one person ask for? "We could do it, you know," I say, my mind wandering down another, more realistic if not reasonable, path of possibility.

"What?" she asks, still licking the last of the crumbs from her fingers.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," I answer, getting more and more into the idea as I go on. I glance over and she looks so dumbfounded that I quickly backtrack and add, "If we didn't have so many kids."

"I never want to have kids," she says flatly.

"I might. If I didn't live here," I muse. Starting a family with Katniss wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"But you do," she points out, sounding irritated.

"Forget it," I snap back. Was the thought of maybe being with me so impossible for her to imagine? Did she not feel the same way about me as I did her? The thought makes me uncomfortable, so I shove it to the back of my mind.

There's an uncomfortable pause before Katniss asks, "What do you want to do?"

"Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight." If we're both still here, that is. I can't bring myself to tell her my horrible feeling that my name will be drawn tonight—especially not after our mini-spat.

We snag a pretty good catch and drop by the Hob to sell most of our products, then stop by the mayor's house to sell half the strawberries we'd found that day. Madge opens the door to greet us, and I'm struck by how lovely she looks today. Instead of her usual school clothes, she's wearing an expensive white dress, her blonde hair tied back with a ribbon. She looks so different that I almost don't recognize her.

"Pretty dress," I say. I'm trying to picture Katniss in something similar, but failing horribly.

She looks at me like she can't tell if I'm joking or not, though to be honest, I hadn't really put much thought into what I'd said. She purses her lips, then suddenly smiles. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

For a moment I'm confused. She doesn't really believe that she'll end up going, does she? There's no way the mayor's daughter would ever get her name drawn in all those hundreds of pieces of paper. "You won't be going to the Capitol." I catch sight of the gold pin on her dress and feel a dagger of ice shoot up my chest. If we could all be as wealthy to go wasting money on little trinkets, we wouldn't be starving, wondering how we'll get through another day. "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old."

"That's not her fault," Katniss immediately says. I glance at her, forgetting that these two are semi-friends. Or something. I see them together a lot, but I'm still not really sure of their relationship to each other. Katniss says they just stick together because it's convenient, but sometimes I'm not really so sure about that. They do seem similar in some ways.

But Katniss would never wear a dress like that.

Madge's face is neutral now as she hands the money to Katniss and says, "Good luck, Katniss."

"You, too," she replies, and then the door closes and we're alone again. We set off back to the Seam and divide what we'd earned that day before parting.

"See you in the square," Katniss says distractedly. Her mind is clearly elsewhere, but who am I to talk?

"Wear something pretty," I say without inflection. It doesn't really matter one way or another in the end, anyways.

That night, the square is filled to bursting with people. It seems wrong, somehow, that there's such a terrible feeling in the air when you're surrounded by so many brightly colored banners and signs belonging to various shops. Cameramen are spaced intermittently around the rooftops, joking and laughing with each other. It must be nice to be so carefree at a time like this.

The mayor has already given his pretty little speech, Haymitch embarrassed himself as every year, and Effie Trinket now stands on the stage, poised to begin the reaping. I catch Katniss's eye through the crowd and try to give her a smile. I feel like it comes off more as a grimace, and then I think of the ominous feeling that's been following me around like an unwanted stray dog all day and suddenly I can't look at her anymore.

"Ladies first!" Effie Trinket says, same as always. Only, it's not the same as always. Because when she crosses to the podium and reads the name of the unfortunate girl who's been chosen, it isn't some girl I hardly know. It's Primrose Everdeen.

Which means—

A murmur goes up and I look back just in time to see Katniss stumble, blank shock re-writing everything on her face. A boy had caught her by the arm to keep her from falling, but as she sees Prim walking stiffly by, a choked scream that sounds vaguely like "Prim!" escapes her. She says it again and the people around her part to make way as she shoves Prim behind a protective arm just before she reaches the stage, gasping, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Of course. The horrible feeling I'd had all day wasn't for me—it was for this moment. This moment when Katniss would be chosen and I knew that I might never see her again. The weight of it crushes me then, making it hard to breathe, to even remember how to breathe. I wish I could volunteer in her place, if only that was allowed.

Now Prim is the one screaming, "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" It's heartbreaking to hear her, to watch her clasp her arms around her sister, hands barely reaching each other around her she's so small.

"Prim, let go," Katniss says, not meeting her sister's eyes, trying to look like she isn't about to break down. Maybe her act works on everyone else, but I can see it. Of all the things she's ever told me, the moment I most vividly remember is when she told me her biggest fear was being a tribute in the Games. "Let go!"

I force myself forward and break Prim's grip on Katniss—it's horrifically sad how easy it is—and pick her up, her arms flailing as she tries to get free. Katniss turns to me with shining eyes and I force the knot in my throat down to my stomach. "Up you go, Catnip." I make my feet take me to Katniss's mother, Prim fighting me all the way.

A faint buzzing is reverberating in the back of my head as Effie Trinket gushes, "Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the Games!" It's sick how thrilled she sounds. "What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen."

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

No one claps. No one moves or even breathes. It's as silent as the moments before the tributes' names are read off. Then, slowly, one by one, every single person in the crowd puts their three middle fingers to their lips and hold it out to Katniss. The aged, nearly-forgotten goodbye to someone loved and respected.

That's when it really and truly hits me. Katniss is leaving. The odds of me ever seeing her again alive are so slim it would be pure stupidity to hold out hope. But I will. I will because that's all I can do.

For the next few moments, I barely register what's going on. Haymitch falls off the stage he's so drunk and then Effie Trinket reads aloud, "Peeta Mellark."

The realization hits me that this could be it. I could enter the Games in his place—who would refuse someone else going in their place?—and protect Katniss. We could last, the two of us. Then when it came to the end, it wouldn't be so hard to die knowing she'd live. Not only live, but never again have to worry about her next meal. Winners of the Games live in luxury the rest of their life, and what more would I ever be able to offer her?

But the more I think about it, the more I know that I can't do it. We promised long ago that we'd protect the others' family if one of us was sent to the Games. If I don't watch after Prim and her mother, who will? Katniss's sacrifice will have gone to waste and she'll hate me forever for it.

By the time I look back up at stage, the mayor has finished his second speech and Katniss and Peeta are shaking hands, both looking like they're about to throw up. I'm not so sure that I look any different.

I have to wait my turn to see Katniss. As soon as I do, it's all I can do to stop myself from coming up with a plan to escape with her right then and there. There's no way we could, and we'd be killed for trying. That wouldn't help either of us.

All I can do is offer my open arms, and she runs straight into them, wrapping her arms around my waist and burying her face in my shirt. I can still smell the fresh scent of the woods hanging on her, of the berries and leaves and lake.

"Listen," I say, thinking as I speak, knowing time is limited. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's your best chance."

"They don't always have bows," she says, shuddering at some memory of her own.

"Then make one," I insist. "Even a weak bow is better than no bow at all."

"I don't even know if there'll be wood."

I know she's just being realistic, but with every possible thing that could go wrong that she points out, my flimsy spark of hope keeps sputtering lower and lower.

"There's almost always some wood," I remind her, remembering myself as I do. "Since that year half of them died of could. Not much entertainment in that."

"Yes, there's usually some," she agrees half-heartedly. I wonder if she's already given up and resigned herself to the fact that she's going to die. The thought makes me panic and I grip her shoulders tightly.

"Katniss, it's just hunting. You're the best hunter I know."

"It's not just hunting," she replies, slowly shaking her head. "They're armed. They think."

"So do you. And you've had more practice. Real practice. You know how to kill."

"Not people."

"How different can it be, really?" I ask grimly, wishing I'd wake up from this any second to find it'd just been a horrible, horrible dream.

The Peacekeepers come moments later, too soon, and even though I beg them for more time, they're dragging me away. "Don't let them starve!" Katniss calls after me, clear panic in her voice.

"I won't!" I answer fiercely. "You know I won't! Katniss, remember I—" _I__love__you._But the door is slammed shut in my face and the words hang unsaid on my lips. And maybe they will remain unsaid forever, because the next time I see Katniss will be on TV, maybe being mutilated or freezing to death or dying some other horrible way.

No, the odds have not been very favorable today.

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**Haha, so not as short as I originally thought it would be. To be honest, I've had about 700 words of this down for almost half a year now and never got around to finishing it. –ashamed…but not really–**

**Well, guys, this is the end. I hope it was a decent last chapter, at least. I owe you guys that much. Thanks for sticking with me and my crap, and have fun reading new things~!**


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